


The Decoy Bride

by lucyrinner



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Banter, F/M, Female Friendships, Friendship, Only Slight Will Daniels Mention, Pining, Romantic Comedy AU, Team Engineering, The Decoy Bride - Freeform, fsromcom, meet cute, romcom, science puns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-15 07:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8047039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucyrinner/pseuds/lucyrinner
Summary: Jemma Simmons isn’t just unlucky-in-love, but unlucky in everything else. After being fired from her job and dumped by her fiancee, she travels back to her hometown- the tiny island of Alderney- to help her old friend Daisy run the family inn after her mother’s passed away. Leo Fitz’s life seemed to only be going up- a rising star in the science community and newly engaged to his supposed true love, Bobbi Morse, one of the most well known actress in Hollywood. They travel all the way to a remote, middle of nowhere island called Alderney, just to get away from the prying eyes of the paparazzi.But when last minute plans fall through and Bobbi’s no where to be found, the wedding has to go on, even if it’s someone else in that white dress and veil.





	1. I Just Wanna Be Okay

**Author's Note:**

> This is a part of the Fitzsimmons Network's Romcom challenge, for which I had the wonderful David Tennant movie 'The Decoy Bride'. If you haven't seen this yet, go watch it, because it's the cutest thing on Netflix, trust me. 
> 
> Huge thanks for Lisa for all the awesome beta help and Fede for my amazing poster! You guys are the greatest and being a part of Team E has been a blast.

_Despite it’s many rolling hills and beautiful seaside spots, the island of Alderney rarely sees any tourism. Boasting a population slightly under 1,000, Alderney is best known for it’s rich history and incredible potential for vacationing right in the capital of St. Anne’s._

It’s a little cliche- the empty ferry, the grey skies above, the tossing of the old engagement ring into the water, but she lets herself indulge in it just this once.

“Ma’am?” The ferryman calls from the front of the boat, and she quickly looks up at him, trying to ignore the ring quickly sinking. This, along with the almost comically terrible timing of being called ma’am, makes her mood drop even lower. ”We’re almost docked, you should grab your bags.”

She awkwardly nods back at him without quite making eye contact, and without another word he goes back to the helm. The boat’s close enough to make out the dock itself- the old lighthouse, the little pharmacy just along the bay, the houses that line that water so perfectly. Jemma remembers why she loved this place so much.

Of course, this love only lasts for about ten minutes, when she’s dragging her backpack and two suitcases all the way up from the docks, fighting the massive downpour of rain without the aid of an umbrella. Pulling up her hood, she toughs it out long enough to struggle to the giant, old yet oddly charming inn at the end of the road.

Before she even reaches the door, fighting to get one of her suitcases over a deep pothole, she hears Daisy’s yell.

“Jemma!”

She finally reaches the door,  excitedly throwing her bag on the ground to give Daisy a hug. “Daisy! Oh, I’ve missed you!”

“What do you mean, you’ve missed me? You’ve been off conquering the world, Miss SHIELD scientist!” 

Jemma winces a little at the mention of her old job, as she hadn’t quite had the chance to break the news to Daisy, but continues on. “What about you? Doing okay?”

Sighing at Jemma’s worry, Daisy grabs one of her bags and starts to lead into the inn. “You worry about me too much. I can’t believe you took off a month from work just to help me out here, you’re the best.” 

“Daisy, I grew up here too, of course I came.” 

It was here where they grew up and played, chasing each other through the uneven cobblestone capital. Though Jemma had left to pursue a serious science career early after finishing up school here, something that people here normally didn’t do, Daisy stayed, taking care of her mother. Only two weeks ago, Mrs. Johnson had died, leaving Daisy the inn all to herself, with no idea how to run it whatsoever- which, of course, caused the panicked, late night phone call to Jemma come running back to her hometown. 

Despite, of course, the fact that SHIELD jobs don’t exactly let you take month long vacations. 

She finally makes it past the entrance, all of the memories of growing up rushing back to her at first sight of the rustic den and creaky floorboards. “Oh, Daisy,” she says quietly. 

“Yeah, I know. It sucks, doesn’t it? All these years later, you’d have thought that woman was going to live forever.” 

Jemma chuckles at that. “You’re not wrong- I still remember her lecturing us about the importance of a good sweeping technique when she made us help out.”

“You’re right! I always felt bad about that, you know. I would invite you over to come play with me and we’d end up doing chores around here.” Daisy sighs, looking around the room at all of the vintage accents that made it so special to everyone. It gets quiet, and she lets out a small, defeated whisper.

“I don’t know how to run an inn, Jemma.”

Jemma touches Daisy on the shoulder and guides her to the couch, putting an arm around her. “I know, it’s okay. I’m here now, aren’t I? You know me, everything has its place when I’m around. We’ll make it work, Daisy.”

“It’s going to take so much money to keep up, even if I want to sell it-”

“We’ll make it work, okay? It’s going to be fine, I promise.”

She finally notices the extremely old TV that’s been on mute since she got here, set to one of the only channels that worked on the island- a trashy celebrity news program. Figures. 

“Ugh, what have you been watching?”

Daisy laughs and the tears that had only started to form cleared up. “Haven’t you heard? It’s the wedding of the century.” She says with a laugh.

Jemma groans and turns it up as a distraction. “Oh, is it that insufferable Leopold Fitz and his wedding again? I swear, you can’t even read a science article without his name being mentioned! It’s as if he invented mechanical engineering.”

“You act as though I watch for him and not the beauty that is Bobbi Morse.”

They look on as the sleazy reporter waits outside the steps of a massive church eagerly. “I’m getting word that we can expect Bobbi Morse to make her way down the steps to the car any second now!”

Jemma groans and turns it down again, sitting back. “I can’t believe you can watch this garbage! It’s so predictable! She’s going to come out in a gorgeous white dress, smile at the camera, and get into a limousine with her new husband. Why does it take a crowd and five reporters?”

“No, no, you’re right- Jemma, look,” said Daisy suddenly, snatching the remote back to increase the volume. “That’s not Bobbi Morse.”

The bride comes down the steps in a beautiful yet non traditional burgundy dress, quickly going down the steps to immediately get into the car waiting. But as soon as the crowd and the camera had lost sight of her, the door to the church opened again and another bride came out, this time in a light shade of brown. 

The door opened yet again- this time the dress was olive, the bride walking down the steps into another waiting vehicle.

“Hmm, that’s peculiar,” Jemma says, noticing more brides making their exit from the church, but none of them the actress they were supposed to be.

“Alright, enough with the celebrity gossip! I want to know about Milton!” Daisy said excitedly, turning her attention away from the TV. “You said you had big news about him!”

She thinks back to her ring, now somewhere at the bottom of the channel, and avoids eye contact. Immediately, Daisy knows. “Oh, Jemma, I’m sorry. What happened?”

Jemma smiles without any amusement and rolls her eyes. “I was an idiot, and I should’ve seen it coming. I’ll tell you all about it later, but for now, I’ve gone… Oh, what are the words I’m looking for?” 

Daisy laughs. “Man vegan?”

“Alright, I guess I’ve gone man vegan.”

Her friend eyes the clock above the fireplace, readying herself to break the news of their plans today. She hesitates, wincing before speaking slowly. “So, then, I guess you’re not in the mood for a wedding?”

Jemma groans and grabs a dusty throw pillow from the couch, throwing it at her.

 

* * *

They’re approaching the rickety old church in the center of town when Daisy tells Jemma all about Milton’s new plans. Milton, her ex-boyfriend, who she quickly abandoned soon after getting the job at SHIELD, and probably the last single man on Alderney under the age of fifty, had found a wife apparently.

“So how is she?” Jemma asks, pretending to be disinterested.

Daisy can see right through her, but doesn’t say anything, preferring to roll her eyes. “She’s sweet, yeah. Never stops talking, and a little too friendly, but sweet.”

“Daisy!”

“Well, you asked me! Honestly, he doesn’t look that happy with her. Seemed more like they were the last two here looking for someone, and just kind of ended up together.”

Jemma sighs, pulling on her hood as she feels the first few drops of rain begin to fall yet again. “Well, that’s too bad,” she says, glancing at her watch, noticing it was well past the hour. “Daisy, what time does this start?”

She shrugs, simply thankful that weddings on Alderney had long since been more casual than not, allowing for her to wear a giant rain jacket almost anywhere. “Ugh, let’s go!”

The girls break into a run as the downpour starts, finally reaching the end of the cobblestone. Jemma pulls open the door in a hurry, quick enough so they can get out of the rain-

And immediately dies of embarrassment.

Everyone already seated in the pews stands up and turns towards her, and looking straight down the aisle, she sees Milton looking confused next to the minister. It’s like walking into someone else’s surprise party, only this has a photographer.

“Jemma, sit down!” Daisy whisper-yells from the back pew that she had rushed into.

Jemma awkwardly shifts her weight, everyone still staring at her, but seated again. “Oh, sorry everyone,” she waves her hand. “Nice to see you all?”

She hears the door open back up behind her and quickly takes a seat, refusing to make this worse than it already it. Thank goodness she did, because the bride walks in on the arm of her father, unusually puffy dress complete with a garish bouquet of flowers.

Thankfully, Jemma’s able to make her escape as soon as the ceremony’s over, dragging a still-laughing Daisy along in tow.

“Daisy, stop it! Do you realize how incredibly awkward that was? It looked like I was trying to crash his wedding!”

Despite herself, Jemma giggles a little at the thought, and they start the walk back to the inn, this time in sunshine. It’s nice, seeing everything comforting that she’d grown up with, instead of big city buildings and unfamiliar faces.

All of the sudden, out of nowhere, a shiny black limousine comes tearing down the uneven road, and it was immediately clear they weren’t from here. No one here owned a Lexus, let alone a stretch limo. The girls stop to stare at it, noticing it slow down as it approaches them.

“Uh, Jemma, this wouldn’t happen to me your fancy job needing you back, would it?”

Jemma scoffs, still keeping one eye on the limo as it creeps up toward them. “Daisy, I work for SHIELD, not the queen. I think I would know if-” 

The car finally stops next to them and the driver rolls down the window. They were right, it definitely wasn’t someone that lived there.

“Hi, my name is Phil Coulson. I’m with the, uh, marketing conference that’s taking place here.” 

“Marketing conference?” Daisy repeats, narrowing her eyes. “We don’t have marketing conferences here. We barely have wifi here.” 

Coulson waves his hand like it’s nothing and continues talking. “Can one of you tell me how to get to the old castle? I think we’re a little lost.”

“For twenty pounds, I will,” Daisy answers quickly.

“Daisy!” Jemma shakes her head at her, not completely surprised. “I’ll tell you. Go straight up the road and turn left at the really old grocery store- you should see it up the road from there. I’ll warn you though, no one’s been inside for years-”

“That’ll be it. Thank you!” He says as he rolls up the window abruptly, stepping on the gas. 

“What was that?” Daisy asks, watching the car wind up the road. “We never get visitors, and we definitely don’t get business travelers.”

“There’s no one to do business with here,” Jemma jokes. “Unless you want two oranges for a pound at Sally’s.”

They shrug and continue up the road, starting to focus more on how they were going to start dusting every shelf in that inn and be done before the new year, rather than the strange guy in the limo.

* * *

“Oh, Fitz, look!”

After hours of flying and a rocky boat to shore, Leo Fitz was looking anywhere but up- preferring his shoes to the churning waters that surrounded the tiny little island. When the ferry finally came to shore, he wobbled off, pretending to not have to lean on Bobbi for support. The blonde, on the other hand, was rock solid and excitedly pointing out more and more things.

“Is it just like you remember?” Bobbi asks, gesturing to the beautiful fields and rocks surrounding the water. The sun’s light, peeking only slightly behind the clouds, glints off the diamond on her left hand.

He looks at her strangely. “What do you mean?” 

“You’ll know where we are soon enough!”

He looks around curiously, sure he’s never been here before. His button up and cardigan look doesn’t really fit in with small island by the bay, and he surely would’ve remembered the boat above everything else.

Bobbi, now surrounded by her two assistants Coulson and May, bounds ahead of Fitz up the hill to look over the town of St. Anne’s, and that when he finally sees a sign right in the center of town, a little old shop- _Alderney Antiques_  

“Alderney?” He asks, confused as to why they ended up in the middle of the British channel instead of a place that actually has phone lines and working cable, but quickly changes his tone when May gives him a stern look. “Alderney!”

They walk down a long path from the docks, avoiding the center of town for fear of being recognized (Bobbi, that is, as Fitz is unsure as to whether or not anyone’s even heard of Stark Industries after he saw an actual well full of water at the bottom of the hill) and eventually make it to the old castle.

“Coulson, castle might’ve been a bit of a generous word,” May says under her breath as they take what’s left of what was once a beautiful, grand structure and now had ivy growing along the side of it, and weeds lining the perimeter.

“Isn’t it great for a wedding?” Coulson asks the couple in the most upbeat tone, ignoring May’s comment. Bobbi nods and immediately starts walking toward it to look around, but Fitz hangs back, long enough for Coulson to notice.

“Alright, Fitz, what’s wrong now?”

“You know what’s wrong,” Fitz says, trying his hardest not to sound like a petulant four year old. “This is ridiculous.”

“You know why you’re doing this, okay? Bobbi’s perfect- she’s famous, she’s funny, and she speaks about twelve different languages. People have faced worse torture.”

Fitz rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well, maybe I don’t want to get married so the Stark Industries stock can go up a few points, huh?”

It had been a whirlwind- Tony Stark, CEO of the company Fitz had only recently became head engineer for, had done yet another dumb thing in front of a camera. The company was desperately need of some good press, not another board member being caught taking bribes or an assistant working for a rival company. 

So the solution in everyone’s mind was simple- take the young, attractive scientist, throw him and the actress that everybody loved together, and you had a press field day.

“Look, Fitz, how about this- take a few minutes, clear your head. Go walk around Alderney- being near the water, away from technology- it might be good for you. If anybody asks, the limos are here for the marketing conference, or whatever excuse I said when I rented the place.”

Fitz rolls his eyes only after turning his back, but still begins to walk away, towards town.

“Fitz!” Yells Coulson, making him whirl back around. “But on some sunglasses, do something, just be less recognizable!”

“I thought we wanted the press to capture the wedding, don’t we?”

Coulson sighs, grabbing a baseball cap out of the bag he’d brought with him, handing it to Fitz. “We want one, preapproved photographer here, not a million all capturing the moments where you and Bobbi barely look like friends!”

Fitz sticks the ugly, Luke Danes-like hat on his head and begins the walk into town. Of course, he feels the droplets of water start to fall almost immediately, actually making him thankful for the hat. When he passes the grocery store and starts on the cobblestone walk, unsure of where he’s going, it starts to pour.

There’s people going into the diner on the corner, even the bookstore across the street to get out of the rain, but he avoids them, looking for a less populated spot.

“Gee, thanks Coulson,” he mutters under his breath, running to the only spot he couldn’t see people, an old, abandoned looking shack right before the docks.

Fitz runs to them, getting even more soaked by the second, until he throws open the door and hastily trips inside. It’s old- covered in spider webs and dust, and he thinks he spots a sink in the corner, making this the world’s oldest outhouse he’s ever been in.

“Hello?” Comes a voice from the dark corner, making Fitz jump. It’s a figure in a bright yellow rain jacket, but he can’t see the face

“Uh, is someone there?” He calls, walking slightly closer. If he wasn’t terrified of the thing in the corner, he’d probably be terrified by the giant spider scurrying across the wall right next to him. “Hello?”

Out comes the figure, and thankfully, it isn’t a toilet-haunting ghost, but a woman.

“Oh, hello! Sorry, about that, I was just, uh…” She trails off, removing her hood and running her hand through her slightly wet brown hair.

 Fitz realizes where he is and immediately backtracks. “Oh, excuse me, I’m sorry for running in here. It’s just, it was raining, and your home looks like it’s open to the public from the outside-” 

She laughs loudly, taking a step towards him cautiously. “My home?”

Fitz nods, heart still beating fast.

“Now, I know you look new, but here on Alderney we live in these primitive dwellings called _houses_. I ran in here only a few seconds before you did.”

“Oh course, sorry. I’m Le-” He stops, remembering the hat and the marketing conference story just in time. “John. John Smith, actually.”

She goes up to shake his hand, smiling despite herself. “I’m Jemma. Nice to meet you, John.”

The pounding of rain on the outhouse roof got a little quieter, and they both began to head out the door again. Fitz finds himself just following behind her until he realizes he has no idea where he’s going.

“So, what are you doing here?” She asks, awkwardly stopping at the end of the steps, trying not to sound too rude.

“Marketing conference, at the castle, actually.”

 “Oh, marketing? That sounds interesting."

He nods, hoping she doesn’t ask anymore questions- she seems intelligent enough to know when someone has no idea what they’re talking about, and Fitz is already anxious that she’ll recognize his face.

He hastily asks her a question before she can ask him one. “What do you do?”

“Biochemistry,” for some reason, Fitz notices her wince at the word, but continues on. “Was actually hoping for a while to get into more, uh, creative and inventive parts of the field, but it never came around.”

“Creative like what?”

Jemma sighs, shaking her head. “It’s silly, really. I had ideas for new weapons, surveillance technology, stuff that incorporated biochem but was less strictly controlled. I was going to be the next Leo Fitz,” she scoffs. “Although, his work has been a tad soulless lately, so maybe it’s for the better.” She blushes, realizing she’s still talking. “Sorry, I’m still going on, aren’t I?”

“No, it’s interesting!” He says a little too awkwardly before he can stop himself. 

Jemma notices the immediate change in mood from him and tries to continue. “So, where are you from? We don’t usually get a lot of tour-”

“Uh, Jemma? What’s the quickest way to the castle? Through there?” Fitz gestures to the path through town.

He catches her off guard, but she points anyway. “Yes, but I could show you if you’d like-”

“That’s okay.”

“Well, just let me know if you want a tour of the town, or something, maybe a coffee?”

“Nice meeting you, Jemma.”

Without another word he hikes up the path, keeping his head down. She almost wants to laugh at how ridiculously unpleasant that ending was, and for once she’s not quite sure what she did wrong.

“Goodbye, John,” Jemma says quietly, starting up her own path back towards the inn. She swings by the hardware store to get the screwdriver she had originally set out for, playing back the conversation with John over and over in her head.

Finally, she opens the door to the inn and shucks off her wet boots, ready to put off messing with whatever kitchen appliance wasn’t working in favor to tell Daisy what just happened.

“Daisy? Where are you?” She yells from the entrance. “I’ve just made the biggest arse of myself!”

Jemma immediately notices something different about the den- it’s a lot cleaner, with all of the piles of stuff on the floor being moved behind the couch, like someone was trying to tidy up quickly.

Daisy comes bounding down the steps, eyes wide and smile too sweet to be real. “Jemma!”

She calls back. “We have a guest!”


	2. You Only Drown When You Swim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Chapter Two! Quick thought: because The Decoy Bride has a surprisingly fantastic soundtrack, and each of these chapters is named after a lyric from a song in the chapter, I highly recommend listening to it!

Late at night, after everyone’s gone to bed in the dusty castle that she’s sure no one’s lived in for centuries. Bobbi creeps down the stairs easily in her pajamas at the rustling noises, attempting not to awaken anyone else. She hadn’t heard Fitz come up to sleep, but she figured he had just taken a walk- to her discouragement, she finds him balling up papers in the dining room downstairs.

She pauses on the last step and takes a breath, trying so hard to be upbeat for him, to help him.

“Always with your head in some papers,” she smiles as he looks up from his work startled. He was surrounded by crumpled up papers and had ink on his hands that had transferred to his forehead after a while.  

“Yeah, just putting down some ideas,” Fitz says quietly.

Bobbi nods, walking over to him. She puts her hand on his shoulder comfortingly and picks up one of the papers he had long since run out of room on, multiple sentences and equations crossed out and rewritten.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you blocked like this.”

Fitz sighs and brushes it off. “Yes, well, you know me, I always get back up again,” he says with a bit of gruff and defeat she hasn’t heard in him for a while.

“Fitz, we’re friends, okay? You can talk to me, even if it doesn’t feel like you can.”

She sometimes wonders if she’s ruining his life a little- sure, the marriage thing had been something that had been brought to her only for them both to receive a very necessary amount of good press from the public- but it didn’t mean it had be like this. He didn’t have to be awkward and quiet when she knows he’s not like that with everyone else.

“Fitz, please? Reassure me you’re not going to show up at that alter all depressed tomorrow? Who’s going to laugh when they say my full name if you don’t?”

It makes him laugh a little, finally looking back up at her. “Sorry, _Barbara_. I just… I don’t know. I just feel I haven’t caught my breath in a while, yeah?”

“Well, that makes sense, as you work about twenty hours a day and barely text me back when I send you links to Broadchurch spoilers.”

He pauses, just grateful for her and her personality, despite what’s happening tomorrow. He doesn’t know if he could pretend-marry anyone else as good as her. “Thank, Bobbi. For everything.”

She nods quietly. “Anytime. Let me know if you need to talk, okay?”

He smiles weakly and she goes back up the stairs, leaving him to scratch out yet another failed equation on the paper in front of him.

Eventually, he wakes up with even more ink on his face and the candle in front of him reduced to just a few drops of wax. He groans as he sits up and stretches his back, noticing the light peeking out from the old windows of the dining room.

  
Finally getting up from his chair and totally disregarding all of the work left on the table, he trudges slowly up the stairs to his own bedroom, he goes to begin to get ready for his wedding.

* * *

 

Bobbi’s grateful Coulson was the one that was assigned to take her to the church, and not May. She loved her staff like family, but she knew that while it was hard to slip away from Coulson, it would be near impossible.

She knows Fitz is already in the limo going towards the church, so she acts quickly.

“Sorry, Coulson, just need to go to the bathroom one last time,” she says to him while he’s distracted by his phone. Coulson nods with only a glance at her, and she goes down the hallway towards the bathroom, making sure no one else from her staff remains in the castle.

  
She catches her reflection in an old mirror at the end of the hall- it’s distorted, but you can make out the beautiful, massive white dress, diamond earrings, and delicate twist of honey blonde hair on top of her head. She takes a breath, look away, and instead of the bathroom, tears down the stairs and out the door of the castle as fast as she can in silver heels, disappearing into the trees quickly.

* * *

 

“May, I need you to listen to me very closely, we don’t have a lot of time.”

This immediately snaps May to attention, walking a few paces away from Fitz getting ready in a room within the church, but keeping her face neutral. “Go on.”

“Bobbi’s gone.”

“What do you mean?” She asks calmly, not wanted to startle Fitz or anyone around them.  

“I mean, she’s not in the castle. Or outside the castle, or anywhere. I found a note she left in Fitz’s room- she must have thought he’d find it before we did. She’s gone, May.”

“She couldn’t have gotten far,” May says, walking quickly out of the room to escape Fitz and outside to the front of the church. “And the note?”

Coulson takes it from his suit pocket. “ _Dear Fitz, please know that I’m okay, and don’t worry about me. I know how much this whole wedding this has gotten out of hand and I don’t want this to be the thing you regret for the rest of your life. You’re my friend, Fitz, and you deserve the world. Love, Bobbi.”_

“Coulson, I have photographers in there who are looking to see the wedding of the century.”

It was true, and Coulson knew it. Even if there wasn’t any outside press here yet, it seemed like everyone in the world was just waiting for a picture of Bobbi Morse in white dress, and he had to give it to them. He thinks quickly, every idea getting worse.

“Yeah, I know, I have a plan. I have one of the stylists out looking for her, but it’s a dead end. Tell Fitz and everyone the ceremony’s delayed, then wait for the car outside. Got it?”

  
Coulson takes the quick hang up from her end as a yes and climbs in the limo, giving the driver quick directions to the church, crumpling up the note that’s he’s read so many times and putting it in his pocket.

* * *

 

 

“Jemma! Can you get the door?”

Jemma puts down her mug of steaming tea and goes to the door quickly, hoping it was another guest. Only having one guy upstairs, who was gone most of the day taking pictures with his big awkward camera wasn’t exactly earning Daisy tons of money.

She opens the door to find not a fresh faced tourist, but two people, one of which she’s definitely seen before.

“I know you, right? You’re the marketing people.”

May rolls her eyes and walks into the den, Coulson following her quickly.

“No, no, come right in!” Jemma adds, shutting the door behind them. “What do you want?”

“We’re here to, uh, give you an _offer_.”

“An offer?” She says, silently praying for Daisy to come and save her. She’s not going anywhere near the marketers after that John Smith turned her down for coffee like she was an idiot.

“Have you heard of Bobbi Morse?”

Jemma scoffs. “Of course.”

“Well, we’re her… People.”

She thinks it’s a joke, the way Coulson looks at her like she should know what that means. Thankfully, May cuts the silence.

“We need you to pretend to be her,” she says blatantly.

“Jemma, I don’t trust that guy staying upstairs!” Daisy yells, carrying a basket of laundry too tall for her down the stairs, not noticing they had company. “He’s been gone all day taking pictures of the place on a fancy camera, and he just gave me an advance on the next two nights. And he flirted with me twice. That’s creepy, right? You were up all night reading science stuff, did you see him come ba-” She finally puts the basket down and looks up, turning red.

“Oh, uh, we have company?”

“But I don’t look anything like Bobbi Morse!” Jemma says, ignoring Daisy.

Daisy looks at her best friend, confused, but Coulson speaks first. “That’s true, but you’re uh, full of potential?”

“Nice try,” Jemma snorts, going to open the door for them to leave.

“It’s just for the press! Wear a white dress, snap a few photos in it, then you’ll be on your way. Two hundred pounds,” he adds the amount at the end pointedly, making both Daisy look up, but not nearly high enough to impress Jemma.

“Nope, sorry!”

“Well, Jemma, hear him out,” Daisy adds under her breath comically, but is silenced when Jemma shoots her a look.

“You realize how crazy this sounds, right? Playing dress up for an afternoon, for money?”

“Five hundred pounds.”

“I’m really not interested, I’m off weddings-”

May interrupts, getting frustrated. “A thousand pounds. It’s not a real wedding.”

“You know I looked into wedding dresses recently?” Jemma laughs, suddenly looking down at her feet. “They cost the same as a Fiat Uno.”

“Five thousand pounds,” Coulson says, taking a breath. He really couldn’t believe this- Bobbi was going to owe him big.

Daisy can’t help but feel a little outraged now. “I’m sorry, has someone on the island told you that Jemma Simmons is a prostitute?”

“You know, I bet you and your friend here could fix up this place really nice with that kind of money.”

Jemma looks up at the cracked window pane, creaky door, and the thermostat that never works. She sighs. “Alright, fine. Daisy, if I’m not back in two hours, call the police, yes?”

Daisy nods without words and watches as the two strangers usher her best friend out the door and into the limo outside. She closes the door behind them and is still surprised when the limo drives away, again in the direction of the castle.

Finally with an idea, one that might make her more than five thousand pounds, she walks toward the landline on the wall next to the fridge and hits 4-1-1.

“Hi, can I have the number of, I don’t know, a press agency? A really fast traveling magazine reporter?” She asks the operator. “I know where Leo Fitz and Bobbi Morse are getting married, for real this time.”

* * *

 

“Okay, that’s where I draw the line!” Jemma says, jumping out of her seat when a stylist comes at her with hair bleach. “Trust me, I know what putting hydrogen peroxide does to your hair, and it doesn’t make it silky, thank you very much.”

The stylist rolls her eyes and gestures for Jemma to turn around, buttoning up the dress from behind with care. It really was gorgeous, and Coulson had never been more thankful he had been in this business long enough to know to bring an extra one.

“Jemma, you look great,” He says when he walks in the room, eyeing the entire outfit. Jemma stood a bit awkwardly in the high heels, but the rest of the look looked incredbile, a form fitting white gown with silver detailing down the side. She turns to face the full length mirror behind her, taking it in- it makes her feel a little more sad than it should. If everything had gone right, she would’ve looked similar to this, but for real, not just a stand in.

“Just one more thing,” Coulson adds, breaking her out of her thought. He grabs the veil that at the moment went behind her hair and moved it to the front, so it covered her face. He looked at it again, then shook his head, gesturing for the stylist to hand him more tulle, simply throwing it on top so it was guaranteed no one would see her face.

“Perfect,” Jemma mumbles indignantly from under the mountain of fabric.

He guides her down the stairs and into the waiting car, feeding her information as fast as he can. “Okay, Bobbi Morse. Remember, there will be photographers everywhere, capturing your every move, so you have to pull off a convincing Bobbi. Lance Hunter, that slimy photographer’s here, and he’d love to expose the fake wedding of the century.”

Jemma’s thankfully able to roll her eyes as no one could even see the expression on her face, but nods for him to continue.

“You’re an Oscar nominee. You have confidence, poise, and you’re best friends with Angelina Jolie. Your role model is Sun Tzu and your new thing is doing entire stunts on your own because of your extreme gymnastics and martial arts background. Oh-” he stops, finally looking up from his phone. “Can you do an American accent?”

“You’re aware of the fact I have two pHDs?”

“No, I wasn’t, but thank you for that addition. Alright, let’s go.”

He leads her out of the car into the church, wobbling slightly, but finally reaches the inside without harm. She concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other, not why she’s suddenly nervous for no reason or the millions of shutter noises she can hear from the cameras in the corner- this isn’t her wedding.

“Bobbi, you okay?” The man with sandy curls, who she assumes is Leo Fitz, whispers to her. She nods quickly, suddenly terrified. “Yes!”

He blinks back, startled, but allows for the minister to continue, still holding her hand.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this couple in holy matrimony....” Jemma tries to listen if only so that she doesn’t miss her speaking part, but Coulson’s stressed foot tapping behind her and May’s fixed glare doesn’t help very much.

“I will,” Fitz says slowly and quietly, and Jemma wishes she could see him- she wonders why he sounds so sad. “I, Leopod Fitz, take Barbara Morse to be my wife, for richer, for poorer, for sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until death do us part. In the presence of God, I make this vow.”

She tries to ignore the few tears that fall from her eyes, but it does no good. Ignoring it, she focuses for her turn as the minister gestures for her to begin.

“I, Barbara Morse,” Jemma starts in possibly the worst American accent ever done, immediately making Coulson want to shut the entire thing down. “Take Leopold Fitz, to be my husband-”

She stops when she feels a small shove to her shoulder. “Bobbi’s not from Texas, Jemma! Speed it up, make it sound less Annie Oakley, please!” He whispers in her ear, drawing a strange look from Fitz.

“Richer, poorer, health, love and cherish, death do us part, presence of God.” she finishes quickly, wincing at every word.

Barely having any time to slide the rings on each other’s fingers, May quickly ushers the photographers out of the room before it can get any worse. They seem to have been fooled, almost to her disbelief, and as soon as they’re out, Coulson takes a sigh of relief.

“Alright, who is this?” Fitz demands from the assistants, suddenly grabbing the tulle covering Jemma’s face and pushing it aside.

She widens her eyes almost comically. “John Smith?”

“Toilet girl?”

She gasps at him, but doesn’t have time to comment as they are hurried back into the car. She hears May alert Coulson to some guys with cameras in the center of town and feels the car accelerate, but has no clue what’s going on/

“So, I’ll be taking my money and my clothes and I’ll be on my way,” Jemma announced as they make a short stop in front of the castle Coulson already feels like he lives at. Fitz looks back at her with disdain and walks quickly to catch up with May. “I should go look for Bobbi!”

“No, Fitz.”

“Yes! She’s not familiar with this island, and she’s all alone, and I just-”

Coulson interrupts everyone’s words. “Fitz! Go inside, take Jemma with you. Both of you can change and be on your way, alright?”

May looks at him like he’s insane, but the other two seem satisfied. They race up the staricase and Coulson follows close behind them. “Jemma, your clothes are in Fitz’s room.”

She follows Fitz into his room, but stops just after the doorway. “Wait, why would they be in-”

The door shuts behind her, locking audibly.

Fitz goes to pound on it, attempting to force the handle. “Coulson! May! Let us out!”

“I can’t believe this!” Jemma yells, joining him. “I want my check! My friend’s expecting me, okay?”

“Coulson, someone must have leaked where we are to the press,” May says quietly from the window in the opposite room, which looks out to the lawn in front of the castle, where close to a hundred men with cameras were standing, looking for an angle to see inside. “That was good thinking. As long as they think Bobbi’s in the castle, they’ll stay here, not go wandering and run into Bobbi.”

“An hour or two, you said!” Jemma yells from the other side of the door, hitting it one last time before ripping off the veil in frustration, sliding down to sit on the floor. Fitz remains standing defeatedly, leaning against the wall, looking out the second story window. He could hear Coulson and May run back down the stairs, probably to try and solve the next new problem, but for now, they were stuck.

“I am not a toilet attendant, by the way,” she adds after they’ve sat in silence for a few minutes. “I did tell you my name.”

“Oh, well, if I remembered your name, then we could find a way out, I suppose?” He shoots back sarcastically.

“Oh, is it cruel to give people beneath you names, then?”

He turns away from the window and towards her, getting more frustrated by the second. “Oh, give you a wash and a nice white dress and it’s all about you, is it? This isn’t your bloody wedding, _Jemma_.”

She narrows her eyes at the use of her name. “Nor yours, apparently.” She could go further, already biting back a comment on how she’s not getting paid enough for this, but takes slight pity on the way his hand shakes, and how nervous he looks.

They fall back into silence at this, and she finds herself looking around the room, seeing two white bags covered in sparkly bows sitting by the door. She carefully scoots toward them, poking around until she laughs loudly without really meaning to.

“Are these party bags for your own wedding?”

Fitz rolls his eyes at her delight as she pulls the things from the gift bags. First it’s Bobbi’s new diamond necklace, then his new tie.

“Is this the new iPhone?”

“Oh, get out of those.”

“I’m sorry, Fitz, but this is too funny, you’re just too far gone to notice it,” she says as she lifts up a shirt from his bag with the words _I Make Science Puns Periodically_ written on it. He blushes, despite how tense he feels.

“Bobbi thought it was funny, okay?”

She shakes in laughter as she puts it back, pushing the bags aside. “Fitz, did you sign the register? The wedding legal stuff?”

“Yeah, ‘course I did. Didn’t think I wasn’t going to be getting married to someone I’d never met before, did I?”

“Well, in all the haste, I think I may have signed my real name,” she realizes slowly, looking down at the ring on her left hand, Fitz following her gaze to it.

“Should’ve made you sign a prenup agreement,” he jokes, laying back on his bed, closing his eyes in complete defeat.

Jemma laughs at this. “So I can have all of your work? No, thanks, I’ll stick with some alimony, please.”

“What’s wrong with my work?”

“The concepts are interesting, but it sounds like you wrote them in the middle of a dry maths class,” she answers honestly.

He sits up, looking a little outraged. “Is that so? Tell me, then, what scientific experience do you have? Where do you work, _Alderney Antiques_?”

“I told you when we met, _John_ , that I was in biochemistry. At SHIELD, thank you.”

“That was then! Still living in your hometown, no job, not even a house to yourself?” He surprises himself with how fierce he’s being, but it’s been a long day.

“Oh, please, as if you have it so much-”

“Jemma.”

“What, Fitz?” She asks angrily, not understanding what he’s interrupted her for.

“This is the second floor, but we have an option here.”

She races to the window where he’s looking, but only sees the pond behind the castle underneath them. “What do you mean?”

“There’s some old rope in here that got left over after some construction was done,” he picks it up from under his bed, already trying to figure out how to rig it so it can hold him. “I’ll climb down and get some help.”

He ties it securely to the bed, which is thankfully bolted down, and opens the window, only now noticing how ridiculously high the drop is. There’s a small pedalo swaying in the water, and he thinks he might be able to save himself the swim if he can work his way into it.

“Wait right there, I’m coming with you!” Jemma yells as he shakily attempts to climb out onto the windowsill.

“In that outfit? I doubt it!”

“So I’m staying here, am I? Tarzan, what makes your girlfriend a bigger priority than my best friend?”

“There could be wolves out there, Jemma!”

At this, she has to laugh. “Wolves? We don’t even have bees! The worst she could run into would be a hedgehog. Which, isn’t bad actually, as we’re kind of overrun.”

He rolls his eyes but begins to carefully climb down the rope, impressing her more than she’d like to admit.

“Right, wait there, I’m right behind you!” Jemma yells, climbing out of the window as best she can with the monstrous white dress on.

Fitz looks at her like she’s crazy, already lowering himself into the ridiculous swan shaped pedalo that he’s sure Coulson thought added something to the castle’s decoration. “You’ll get the bottom of the dress wet!”

She stops trying to fix all of the snags where the dress caught on the bricks. “Fitz, are you serious? You can’t just leave me here!”

Apparently, he can because he’s already steering the boat towards the shore only a few yards away, something easily swum if they both weren’t dressed in their best clothing. She struggles to reach the rope he’d left hanging off the edge of the window, trying to slowly lower herself. She slips, sliding down the rope and into the murky water with a yelp.

Fitz turns when he hears the splash. “Jemma?” He asks, expecting her to come up rather easily. While the water’s murky, it should be shallow enough for her to resurface. “Jemma!”

He freezes for a few seconds, staring at the spot he last saw her, which has no ripples or signs of her. Panicking, he shucks off his jacket and inhales a deep breath, diving into the water after her.

Immediately, Fitz spots her, struggling with the tulle of the dress, caught on the jagged rock, trying to propel herself towards the surface but not quite making it. He gets close enough to grab a piece of fabric and yank it off, having to tear off most of the bottom layers of the dress just to free her. Once she’s released, she immediately grabs his arm and pulls him back up. When they break the surface, they both struggle for breath.

They reach the shore and immediately haul themselves up, coughing and sputtering water. Jemma lies on her back, shaking and trying to pull what’s left of the dress down to cover her bare legs.

“Well you, uh, got the bottom of the dress wet,” he chokes out, lying down next to her on the grass, breathing hard.

Eventually, they can stand, and try to make their way back into town.

Jemma shivers, crossing her arms over her chest and hurrying across the hill, Fitz following closely. Her plan was to go back to her house _alone_ and try to forget the day had even happened, not invite him back to spend even more time with him, or worse, have him meet Daisy. She tells herself it’s because Daisy will make a big deal about her in a soaked, torn wedding dress, being accompanied by a very highly regarded and maybe slightly attractive scientist.

He notices she’s still gasping for air a little when she slows down to speak. “Thank you for saving my life. That dive was-”

“You’re a better swimmer, and anyway, It’s my fault. You shouldn’t even be in this mess-”

“Fitz,” she stops him immediately. “It’s not your fault in the slightest. We were escaping a centuries old castle using a rope and a pedal boat, and I’m wearing a wedding dress.” At this, Jemma looks down at her torn skirt, where only a few inches off fabric below the knee remained.

“Well, I was, anyway.”

“Well, I’m still sorry you nearly drowned.”

She scoffs before he can even start. “Don’t be. My life flashed in front of my eyes, and halfway through it, I was just bored. Being drowned was a highlight.”

“Me too, actually,” he adds. “It was nice to do something productive for a change.”

Jemma’s too out of breath to tease him about his work, so she asks the serious question. “What do you mean? You’re Leo Fitz, Stark Industries.”

He laughs weakly, staring at the ground instead of her. “Now that you mention it, I think you were right about my work being a bit soulless.”

“Well, you were right about me staying with my best friend, and my career. I am a loser,” she admits.

“But you were right about me being blocked. Guess I’m the bigger loser.”

“No, I’m definitely the bigger loser. Have you seen this?” She laughs, gesturing to her torn, dripping dress that looked more brown than white after meeting the water.

“Oh, no, not by a long shot!” He offers her his coat jacket, which, while still wet, would at least provide some warmth. “Here, take this.”

She doesn’t even notice the jacket, only bothering to shoot a response back. “Why do you have to be so competitive?”

  
“Why do you have to be so bloody right about everything?”

* * *

 

Back near the hordes of paparazzi, a tall, beautiful woman wandered inconspicuously into the crowd, her blonde hair all pushed up into a hat she had found.

Ironically, the first time Bobbi Morse has been in a public place since her early days of acting, she gets to mess with some of the press guys, and not the other way around. She marches right up to Lance Hunter, who is pouring over his camera with a sad look on his face.

“You get your shot?” She asks him in a deeper voice, trying any kind of recognition.

Hunter sighs and tosses up his hands. “Yeah, but nothing where you can see her face clearly,” he admits. “Which is a damn shame, because she’s beautiful.”

“You think so?” Bobbi asks, her heart warming a little. She had always known Hunter to be one of the guys who would annoying stop at nothing to get a picture of her for his magazine.

“Of course,” he answers, flipping through all the pictures he had taken on his camera. “I just keep coming back to her for some reason. Don’t know why, actually- thought her getting married would stop it once and for all.”

She puts her hand on his shoulder before realizing she’s supposed to be a stranger, snatching it back and murmuring a quick goodbye to a now startled Hunter.

Looking back at all the photographers, Bobbi sighs, slowly trying to form a plan beyond feeling sympathy and sadness towards a guy she’s supposed to hate.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Find me on tumblr: @lucyriner


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